I was recently in Brisbane and had a day before my onward journey north to Port Moresby. I was tired and jet-lagged but also hungry which meant looking at what was available in the hotel’s restaurant.
For starters, I was in no state to wonder outside the hotel and I must have looked like something out of a squashed women’s magazine. Just kidding. I made sure I looked alright and no-one asked me to leave the restaurant on account of my appearance so that was that. My hair was in place and although I wasn’t wearing any make-up I looked tidy and presentable for restaurant dining. I don’t think anyone gave two hoots at that time of the day what I looked like. I think they were more interested in whether I was going to eat there or have a drink at least. Everyone was focused on the lunchtime crowd and service.
Having flown all night arriving in Brisbane the next morning, I wasn’t going to waste my time hunting around for food! It was lunchtime and I felt peckish. Not hungry enough to wolf down a full-bodied sandwich nor was I in any mood for fish and chips or a hamburger. What I needed was a light lunch to satisfy the pangs of hunger. Whilst my eyes moved around the menu, my taste buds were moving from the succulent to the so-so.
The waiter came around twice and each time I asked him to give me 2 more minutes to make up my mind. In the meantime, the restaurant was filling up. Yes, I forgot that it was lunchtime – 12 noon. I realised that if I didn’t order soon, the waiter will go away and serve others. I could have been waiting there for a long time to be served.
I didn’t want to take that risk so I did what any sane person would do and turned to the waiter for suggestions and recommendations. He must have suggested several dishes but each suggestion it seemed was met with my shaking head. I looked at him and tried to imagine what it would be like if I were him serving me. Hmmm…an interesting thought – I banished the thought, as I cruised through the menu.
Whilst the place was abuzz with chatty, cheerful diners, I was still wondering about what to eat. I think that’s what jet-lag does. One’s focus waxes and wanes like the moon. Yes, some uncertainty as to what would be good for the stomach after eating several meals in a pressurised cabin several thousand feet above terra firma several hours at a time. In that context, believe me, I did not want to develop a Brissy belly…
I consulted the waiter and lo and behold he had the answer. A mouth-watering dish of dried tomatoes with mozzarella cheese, some black olives and some lettuce promptly appeared before me served by one very relieved waiter, I daresay. The rest, as they say, is history. I savoured every piece and enjoyed my light lunch. It really hit the spot. Not too heavy, not too light, just right!
Well, that did it for me. I was once again replenished and energised and went out to enjoy some of the sights and sounds of good ol’ Brissy…